


The death of our dear Ripper

by Khoshekh42



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoshekh42/pseuds/Khoshekh42
Summary: When Buffy is holding a dying Giles, he gives her a message to tell to Ethan Rayne. As it turns out, Ethan might hold the answer to bringing Giles back, and it involves traveling back in time to Giles' years as 'Ripper'. Buffy, Willow, and Xander learn many things about their stuffy school librarian. When- or if- they're able to save Giles, what will Jenny Calendar think about Giles' not-quite-platonic feelings about the Chaos mage that saved his life?
Relationships: Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles, Rupert Giles/Ethan Rayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Buffy had thought at length about what would happen if she were to die, what the procedure would be—she had gone over what Giles was supposed to do, how he was to tell her mother, that he was to explain everything to her, and even who was to take some of her things. She didn’t have an official will, but Giles had jotted down a few things on Buffy’s orders. Giles hadn’t been pleased about it, stammering something about how she really shouldn’t be worrying about that sort of thing. Buffy had responded with something that seemed to hit him harder than she’d meant for it to: “I know I shouldn’t have to worry, but I’m the Slayer. I didn’t choose to have to worry, but not worrying would be gross oversight on my part.”

Buffy had also considered what she would do if Willow or Xander were killed—usually after having nightmares in which just that took place. She vowed that if she ever got one of her friends killed, that she would hunt down the creature that did it, and go into hiding—only coming out to hunt, do her job, and to never associate herself with anyone she could care about ever again.

However, the one person Buffy had never considered dying was the one lying before her, gasping for his last breaths, eyes sliding in and out of focus. Rupert Giles was never supposed to die. He was the one person that shouldn’t be allowed to die.

“Buffy,” Giles murmured, “It’s not your fault. I- I knew what I was getting myself into. This was my job, and… and I’m glad to do it.”

“Giles, we’re gonna fix this, just hold on, just a little longer, an ambulance is on its way.” Buffy was shaking as she pressed her hands firmly against the gash going too deep, Buffy knew, to be fixed. Too deep to let Giles live.

Giles took in a raspy breath, gurgling through blood, he weakly grabbed Buffy’s arm.

“Don’t try to talk, save your energy, please, Giles, I need you.” Buffy knew that her pleading was to be in vain, but the words came out of her in her desperation.

“I’m proud of you, Buffy.” Giles was still struggling to speak, to breathe, “So proud. You’ve been so brave, so strong.”

Buffy felt neither of those things, but she nodded along with him anyway.

“And Buffy, listen to me, please,” Giles said, looking to her urgently, a wild panic in his eyes, as if he was only just realizing that he was dying, “If you see Ethan Rayne again, tell him I- tell him…” His voice was getting weaker by the second, “Tell him I’m sorry for- for never- I never… never told him I still… never…”

And Giles’s hand fell from her arm.

Buffy thought she might scream, but all that happened was that she slumped back, letting her hands fall away from Giles’ wound.

The ambulance approaching, Buffy thought she might be sick if she had to come up with a decent lie as to how Giles had been hurt, had been _killed_. ‘It was a pack of vampires sent by another vampire named Spike who wants me very dead’ seemed as if it might get her in more trouble than she could handle. So, closing Giles’ eyes with an uncertain hand, she stood, and walked out of the cemetery.

She was still shaking as she walked back to her house, despite the balmy night. She hadn’t a coherent thought in her mind as she opened the front door of the house, not bothering to be quiet despite it being well past midnight.

_Giles was dead._

Buffy, dropping her duffel with a thud on the kitchen floor, walked faux-calmly to the sink, raised her hand to turn the water on so she might try to get some of the blood off her hands. She stared at her hand, coated in blood—Giles’ blood—along with her shirt soaked through, and her stomach turned. She let out a sob before vomiting into the sink.

As she cried, hardly comprehending that this was real, she was only vaguely aware of the footsteps on the stairs.

_Giles was dead._

She sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees, not a care in the world about getting her jeans dirty.

Her mother screamed when she caught sight of Buffy, rushing up to check her for injuries. She seemed slightly confounded as she found nothing but blood, but Buffy finally spoke up, voice quiet and defeated. “It’s not my blood.”

“What happened, who—”

“Giles is dead.”

And nothing Joyce said for the next few minutes, hours—Buffy couldn’t tell—registered with Buffy, and she finally sent Buffy upstairs to take a shower.

Buffy had stopped only just sobbing once she left the shower, but tears were still falling down her face as she made her way back downstairs to find her mom wiping blood off the floor. When she caught sight of Buffy, she stopped and sat her daughter down at the table, sitting just next to her.

“Buffy, sweetheart, what happened?”

“It was vampires.”

Before Joyce could say anything, Buffy continued in a dead and hollow voice, “I’m the Slayer. I kill vampires. That’s why I burnt down the gym in L.A., that’s why I’m always sneaking out at night, and that’s why Giles is dead.” Her voice hitched as she said Giles’ name, “Giles is—was—my Watcher, he helped me with everything. Vampires, demons, witches…” Buffy took a deep breath, “I need to call Willow and Xander. They know about the vampires; they need to hear about this now.”

“Honey, you don’t honestly believe—”

“Look in my duffel, I don’t have the energy to argue.”

While her mom rummaged through the duffel full of stakes, garlic, crosses, and a full crossbow, among other things, Buffy called Willow’s house first, telling Mr. Rosenberg that Willow needed to come over. Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, but he agreed to drive her over.

After doing the dame with Xander’s house, she went back to find her mother holding the glass of holy water with some confusion.

“Holy water.” Buffy explained.

“Buffy…”

“Do you remember when you went to the hospital? With that?” Buffy pointed to the two marks on Joyce’s neck, “That wasn’t a barbecue fork. We don’t _have_ a barbecue fork. Darla was a vampire.”

The horror of everything seemed to be settling on her mother, so Buffy sat down at the table in silence, not saying anything until Willow showed up.

“Buffy, you’re worrying me, what’s going on?” Willow was still wearing her pajama pants.

“I’ll explain when Xander gets here.” She answered, refusing to say anything more about the subject.

Willow eyed Buffy’s mother, who was looking at the crossbow with some apprehension.

Xander arrived, just as concerned as Willow was.

“What—?” Xander started, but Buffy cut him off.

“Giles is dead.”

Xander shut up immediately, Willow just sank down into a chair.

“We were patrolling through the graveyard when we got jumped. One got Giles pretty bad with a knife he had on him… I was able to kill them all, but Giles… I—it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not your fault…” Willow said through the tears that were already falling down her face.

As Buffy replayed the scene through her head, she reached his final words, and she remembered what his last instructions were.

“I need to find Ethan Rayne.” She said, continuing on at the confused expressions of both Xander and Willow, “Giles, right before… he said that I should tell Ethan that he’s sorry because he never told him he still… something.”

“Never told him he still what?” Xander asked, face somewhat emotionless now that he’d gotten over the initial shock.

“I don’t know.” Buffy said quietly, “He couldn’t get that far.”

They sat in silence, all thinking about Giles—past times they’d had with him, what they could have done differently, what Ethan Rayne had to do with anything.

Finally, Joyce spoke up, “Buffy… I think you need to go to bed.”

Buffy opened her mouth to argue, but she thought better, “Can Xander and Willow stay the night? I just… I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Joyce sighed, obviously wanting to say no, but she didn’t appear to have the heart to do so. “Alright. You two can use the phone to call your parents to ask if that’s okay with them.”

Willow and Xander nodded, and each of them dutifully filled in their parents about the vaguest parts of the situation—just that Buffy had learned that Giles had just died and that she needed people there with her for emotional support.

But once they got up to Buffy’s room, Buffy started packing a backpack.

“We’re finding Ethan, he knows something, and I just… I can’t just sleep right now.” Buffy blinked several times, taking a deep breath.

Willow and Xander understood, even though they hadn’t been there, they were still feeling quite shaken from the events of the night.

Sneaking out wasn’t the difficult part, Buffy had certainly done it often enough to be used to it. The hard thing was trying to figure out where to find Ethan. The only time they’d seen him had been on Halloween, and since Giles had made it fairly clear that if he didn’t leave town there’d be huge trouble—and Buffy wasn’t exactly certain whether she was sure whether she would prefer him to have stayed or left at the moment. On the one hand, it would make everything much easier if he was still nearby, and they’d be able to find him with less trouble. On the other hand, perhaps she’d rather Ethan have left town, because she honestly didn’t really like Ethan. But if Giles really wanted him to know something—if Giles really was trying to apologize to Ethan for some unknown reason, then Buffy would absolutely try to tell him that. Especially on account of the fact that it had been his last request.

Thinking that last part, Buffy felt something tighten in her chest.

“We should try the costume shop.” Willow suggested, “Maybe he just never left town? Or if he did, maybe there’s some sort of clue there.”

Buffy agreed. It was the best way to get information as quickly as possible.

“Any theories as to what Giles wanted to say?” Willow asked quietly.

Buffy shrugged, “I only saw Ethan when I bought my costume. You saw him when he and Giles met.”

“I didn’t realize that they knew each other. I mean, it makes some sense, Giles seemed really angry when he saw him. And as soon as I said that the shop’s name was Ethan’s, Giles seemed to know exactly who it was. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, I was mostly freaking out about what was going to happen to you and all the children.”

“Did Giles ever mention Ethan again?” Xander asked.

“Just to explain what had happened when Willow left,” Buffy said, “He said that Ethan worshiped Janus and that he’d cursed the outfits in his shop. He didn’t say much else.”

“He did seem really upset about the whole situation.” Xander offered, “I just assumed it was to do with the whole ‘combining children and chaos magic’ thing, but I guess there was some history between them.”

“He still _what_ , what was it that Giles still… whatever? What did he have to say? I just want to know so that I can fulfill his final—” Buffy cut off with a shaky breath. “That seems like it’s the least I can do.”

“I know.” Willow said softly, and Buffy could hear the sniffle that accompanied it.

Reaching the old costume shop didn’t take long—Buffy was glad that they didn’t run into anyone, or anything, in the dark of night.

The sign still hung above the door, but the interior was completely cleared out.

Xander tried the door, “Locked.” He announced, turning back to Buffy and Willow, as if that meant anything.

Buffy shook her head, and roundhouse kicked the window next to it, shattering it easily.

Xander looked as though he were going to say something about the noise, but he decided against it as he looked at Buffy’s tear-streaked face.

As they headed into the room, glass crunching underfoot, Buffy caught a noise coming from the back.

“Ethan?” She called out, decided she didn’t really care at the moment about stealth. (Whether that was because she was so emotionally drained, or because she knew that kicking through the window had already alerted whoever was back there, she wasn’t really concerned with at this point.)

And there was Ethan, carrying a knife, leaning cautiously around the door frame that led into the backroom.

“Ah, Ms. Summers! I _must_ apologize for my still being here, but you may find that I don’t particularly care about what Rupert has to say—”

“Shut up.” Buffy spat harshly. Willow sniffled again, and Xander glowered.

“Touchy subject, all right.” Ethan raised his hands in semi-surrender, though Buffy noted the knife still in his hand.

“Giles is dead.”

All the color drained from Ethan’s face, and he dropped the knife, sitting distractedly on top of stack of boxes behind the counter.

  
“Around an hour ago.” Buffy said stiffly, as if removing emotion from her voice would stop her from feeling the substantial pain weighing on her heart.

“Dead.” Ethan repeated, looking somewhat distant.

“He tried to say something, something that I was supposed to tell you, but… he didn’t make it to the end.” Buffy’s voice and mask broke at the last sentence,

Ethan looked up at her, an odd expression in his eyes.

“He said that he was sorry for never telling you that he still… something.”

Ethan’s face crumpled a little, “Oh.”

After a moment, Buffy spoke again, softly, “Do you know what he meant?”

When Ethan responded, his voice wavered slightly, “I’m sure you’ve figured out that Rupert and I knew each other in the past.”

At the three of them nodding, Ethan continued, “We made… mistakes, and…” He paused, “He was probably referring to one of those.”

Willow made a frustrated noise, “I wish we could just have been there, maybe we could have helped—changed something.”

Ethan’s eyes, previously somewhat misty, became much sharper, “Changed something.” He repeated.

“You have an idea.” Buffy stated, recklessly knowing that she would risk anything to be able to save Giles.

“There is an artifact,” Ethan said, heading back through the doorway, “That I have, though it’s just one use, so I was saving it for something important… I do believe I’ve found something important for which to use it.”

He came back out with a smooth black stone with engraved runes in it.

“This is an Aevum stone. Said to have been used by the ancient Romans, which led them to great military success. They take you back to the point in time and space that they were created.”

“Wait so that thing’ll take us back to ancient Rome?” Xander sounded skeptical.

Ethan scoffed, “No, this one was made much more recently. London in the seventies. You should be able to find Rupert there, give him something to convince him to not go to the graveyard tonight, at least not just with Ms. Summers.”

Buffy considered the stone for a moment, “You think it’ll work?”

“As long as you can convince him that you’re actually from the future, then I’m sure it will.”

“And why should we trust you?” Xander asked, reasonably, “You almost got Buffy killed.”

“Because there is very little I wouldn’t do to keep Rupert Giles safe.” Ethan sounded solemn.

“I’ll do it.” Buffy agreed, holding her hand out to take the stone.

“Give me an hour to make another,” Ethan told them, “Unless you’d prefer to be stuck in the seventies?”

“An hour, then.” Buffy agreed, hopping up to sit on the counter.

As Ethan disappeared into the back again, Xander hissed into Buffy’s ear, “Wait, so we’re actually about to go into the _past_ , all while trusting a man that almost got us _killed_ before?”

“Do we have another choice, Xander? If you don’t care about Giles enough, you can stay here, but _I’m_ going.”

Xander looked like she’d slapped him across the face.

“Hey, you know he cares about Giles. That was kinda unfair, Buffy.” Willow said with a sad expression.

Buffy sighed. She knew it was unfair, and she hadn’t meant to lash out, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

She just had too much emotion to deal with everything at the moment.

Xander looked understanding at the very least, “I’m going with you Buff, neither of us are going to let you go alone.”

Willow nodded.

“Thanks guys.” Buffy said quietly, wondering vaguely if or when her mother would realize that she’d left her room, wondering how much she would panic due to the circumstances of the night.

The rest of the hour was spent in relative silence, with just the occasional noise coming from the back room to indicate that Ethan was making progress.

And when Ethan did come back out, it was with a bandage wrapped around his hand, a rock coated in drying blood and unknown symbols.

“Now, I’ll do the ritual to get you to the seventies, and I’ll send you with this Aevum I just made, and instructions on the ritual so you can get back here once you’ve convinced Ri- Rupert that he shouldn’t go with you alone to the graveyard tonight. Then, hopefully, you’ll come back here, and he’ll be alive. If that doesn’t work, then… then we’ll just have to keep looking for a different solution.”

“You knew him back then, what should we say to convince him?” Buffy asked, ready to get this done and over with.

“Ah. Yes.” Ethan glanced around before grabbing a pen and an old discarded receipt from under the counter. Scribbling something down, he said: “This should help give you credibility, at the very least.”

He handed the receipt to Buffy, but before she could take it, he drew his hand back, “Before I give this to you, I must warn you… Rupert wasn’t the same man back then. In the simplest terms, he didn’t like nor trust the Watcher Council a single bit.”

Buffy took the receipt from Ethan as he offered it to her again.

_Ripper-_

_Trust these three, they’re working in your best interests._

_Can’t explain much, I’m afraid, I don’t want to risk a bigger paradox than I’m already risking._

_I’m sorry._

_-Ethan ♥_

Buffy looked at the small heart Ethan had drawn next to his name and raised her eyebrows in suspicion. Ethan ignored her in favor of beginning to set up the ritual.

“How friendly.” Xander commented sarcastically as he looked at the note over her shoulder.

Ethan stopped and scowled, “Listen, just because you lot might have something to say about my sexuality, that doesn’t mean you have to have a problem with Rupert.”

The three of them blinked.

“That’s… Not what I meant.” Xander said, “But wait, Giles can’t be gay, what about Ms. Calendar?”

“And Ms. Calendar would be…?”

“Giles’ girlfriend.” Willow said helpfully.

Ethan blinked a few times, obviously surprised, with some other emotion that Buffy couldn’t identify mixed in there somewhere.

“Well. I suppose Rupert learned some things about himself when he joined the Watchers.” He sounded, perhaps, a little bitter.

Willow looked up at Ethan, understanding written plainly on her face, “You were in love with Giles.”

Ethan gave a rueful smile as he turned away and continued setting up the ritual, “I suppose it was inevitable that you find out. Ripper and I were an item for around four years. After… Well, I won’t tell you exactly what happened for fear of a paradox, but when he was ready to join the Watcher Council, he wasn’t about to introduce a chaos mage as his friend, let alone his partner.” He shook his head, “Especially not in the seventies, there was still a high possibility of being attacked for that sort of thing, and the Watcher Council was never the accepting sort.”

Ethan smiled sadly, “It was 1972, Rupert had just quit his Watcher studies, and he ended up at the Britain’s first pride march. He had such a nervously defiant air about him, so determined to shed responsibility, yet terrified at the same time. I noticed him alone, so we went over, Diedre, Thomas, Phillip, and I. We had a blast, screaming at the top of our lungs about everything. Eventually, Diedre joked about Rupert just needing to play guitar and we—who had been trying to start a band—would be all set. Turns out he did play, and… What is it that people say? The rest is history. We made our band—Queer Magic—and we all just figured that that was it, we’d just party like that for the rest of our lives.” He looked less nostalgic now, “We were all young and stupid.”

Ethan shook himself from his reverie and put a final symbol on the floor.

Even Xander seemed to have enough sense to not say anything about Ethan’s speech.

“Alright,” Ethan clapped his hands together, looking at his handiwork. “Ah! You’ll need a copy of the ritual, and—” He grabbed another discarded receipt from the counter, writing something onto it, “The address that you’ll find Ripper at. He and I shared a flat at that point—more out of lack money than anything else.” He assured them.

“You keep calling him ‘Ripper’. Is that… a nickname?”

“From the band, yes. He did tend to be wilder than the rest of us.”

Willow, Xander, and Buffy looked skeptical, but said nothing.

Xander took the address from Ethan, who then handed a small stack of papers to Willow.

“That’ll be the ritual, don’t lose it, it’s a terribly difficult ritual to find.”

Willow nodded dutifully, clutching the papers to her chest.

“Alright then! Stand in the circle, and huddle close. Don’t get too close to the edges.” Ethan said, gathering a few materials in front of him.

He read from a book, chanting in Latin—Buffy could recognize the sound of it from when Giles tried to teach her, but she didn’t have any knack for foreign language, so what Ethan was saying was a mystery to her.

His chanting got louder, and as he seemed to be reaching a climax, he struck a match, and threw it down on the circle that surrounded the three, somewhat terrified, children.

All at once, the fire lit, brighter than it should be, and Buffy could feel a horrible feeling deep in her stomach, as if she were being pulled both deep into the ground and high into the sky. The light was getting to be too bright, so she squeezed her eyes tight, hoping that Ethan actually knew what he was doing, and as she did so, she could hear his voice echoing from somewhere that sounded very far away—“Bring him back. Please.”

The stretching feeling stopped first, and she could finally feel her feet back on solid ground, but the light was still too bright to open her eyes.

A voice began echoing again, but this time it was getting louder instead of quieter: “Fucking hell, Eth, I think you actually did it!”

A new voice, Ethan, Buffy could intuit, “Of course I did it, dumbass, I’m the best fucking chaos mage this side of the bloody solar system.” Despite his confident words, his voice seemed as if he were in awe himself.

The light began to fade, and Buffy was finally able to open her eyes.

Her gaze fell on a pair of extraordinarily disappointed men.

“Well shit.” The one that had spoken first said, “You’ve gone and fucked it up, Ethan. Went and got your stone stolen or some shit.”

Willow spoke up first, eyes wide, perhaps somewhat frightened, “Giles?” She asked of the one that wasn’t Ethan.

With this prompting, Buffy realized that the man in front of her—scruffy hair, pierced ear, leather jacket, and a tattoo on his forearm—was in fact, Giles.


	2. Chapter 2

“Right…” Giles—rather, this strange version of Giles—drawled, “Ethan d’you have any idea who these people are?”

“I dunno!” Ethan said defensively, “They seem to know who you are, why don’t _you_ tell me who they are.”

“They have your rock.” Giles argued back, scowling.

“Or, you could, y’know, ask us?” Buffy offered.

“Oh good,” Ethan rolled his eyes, “They’re American.”

“As if you didn’t give them your time rock.” Giles scoffed.

“Can you both just shut up and _please_ let us explain?” Willow snapped, obviously uncomfortable with the entire situation. Buffy supposed that however interested one was in magic, seeing Giles like this was enough to put a strain on your emotions. She could certainly understand—her chest was tight with hearing what was so obviously Giles’ voice not a few hours after seeing him die in her arms, even if the voice was attached to a body that only had a passing resemblance to the stuffy librarian she’d come to care about.

Ethan raised his eyebrows but motioned for her to continue.

“We’re from the future, from November of 1997. In the future, you,” Buffy pointed at Giles, “Are my Watcher.”

She ignored the snort of derision from Giles, “This blood on my shirt is yours. Just a few hours ago, you died in my arms. I’m here to stop that.”

“Great!” Giles snarked, “All I have to do is not make the idiot choice of going back to my dad and the Watcher Council, which I wasn’t planning on doing anyway, and I won’t die because of your mistakes. Now do _kindly_ fuck off and leave me alone.” He gave her a sneering smile.

Anger boiled just below the surface of Buffy’s thin veneer of calm.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that!” Xander growled “You’re supposed to be the adult here.”

“Oh?” Giles asked, “Am I? Tell me, how old do you think I am? Because it looks to me like _you_ are no more than perhaps seventeen or eighteen, I’m only twenty. I had my life, my fucking _choice_ taken away from me when I was born. I was told as a _child_ that I would have to spend my life babysitting for some fucking _Slayer_ ,” He spat, motioning angrily towards Buffy, “And that I had no voice in the matter. Tell me,” He stepped up close into Xander’s personal space, “That you understand me, that I’m supposed to be the voice of reason.”

Xander looked a little cowed, but he didn’t back down.

“He may not understand,” Buffy said, tone icy, “But I do.”

Giles turned her attention towards Buffy as she continued.

“I may not have an actual father who wants me to ‘fulfill my destiny’ but I do have a father _figure_ who tells me when I need to train, what I need to do, how to live my life. I just want a normal life, with normal problems, like ‘what to wear to school because what if my crush doesn’t like my outfit’, not ‘should I bring a stake to school because what if Spike sends another group of vampires to kill me!’ I’m supposed to only have to worry about how much homework I have, whether I’ll pass biology, and not about all that _plus_ some stupid ancient prophecy telling me that I’m supposed to die! I’m supposed to worry about who to take to prom, not seeing my father figure _die in my arms,_ only to try to save him and having him tell me that it was _all my fault,_ cause, y’know, that sort of thing weighs on someone. So don’t talk to _me_ about destiny, _Giles_. At least if you ignore _your_ destiny, you aren’t going to bring about the end of life on Earth.” Tears of anger, pain, stress, were streaking down Buffy’s face as she continued:

“God! What a _hypocrite_ you are! You go and do all this!” She waved an arm expansively around her, “And then you have the _gall_ to tell me that I have to stick to my destiny just twenty years later?”

Willow and Xander looked a little taken aback by Buffy’s outburst.

Buffy took a deep breath, glaring at Giles, “I’m trying to save your life. The least you could do is pretend you’re grateful.”

Giles turned away, sitting down on a sagging couch.

“How about this?” He said, voice quiet but somewhat livid, “You do what you need to do, give me the day I need to watch out, I’ll ‘keep the information in mind’, and you get out of my _fucking_ flat.”

“Ripper…” Ethan said tentatively, “Perhaps we should hear them out, if they’re telling the truth—”

“Oh, so now _you’re_ saying I’m gonna go back to the Council?” Giles didn’t even look towards Ethan.

“No, I’m saying that maybe you should swallow your pride for one second and let this girl try to save your life! Ripper, maybe it’s not that _obvious_ after four fucking years, but I love you. And I don’t want your stubbornness getting you killed! If you don’t go back to the Council, none of this will matter, but if you dad drags you back, and you get caught up in this fucking mess, then maybe listening to the girl will save your life.”

Giles’ shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, standing and putting his hand onto Ethan’s shoulder with the apology. “I love you, too. You know I do.”

“I’ve got a note from Ethan if you still don’t believe us.” Buffy offered the receipt to Giles, who took it wordlessly. Buffy chose to ignore the exchange of sentiments between the man she’d already admitted was a father figure to her, and the man who had almost gotten her killed. She wasn’t sure that she had the state of mind to deal with that. 

Giles smirked lightly, “Looks like your handwriting is still complete shit in 1997, Eth. Glad to see some things don’t change.”

“So, what’s the date he needs to watch out for?” Ethan asked. He laced his hand into Giles’ and dragged him back down onto the couch so that Ethan was sitting in Giles’ lap.

“November twelfth of 1997.” Buffy said.

Ethan grabbed a pen sitting on the side table and scrawled that onto the note that he had written just an hour or so ago but wouldn’t write until twenty years in the future.

“I assume you’ve got another Aevum stone?” Ethan asked, and when Willow held it up, he ushered her forward.

Inspecting it, he stood and walked over to where he’d been doing the ritual before and started replacing chalk markings with other symbols.

Ethan worked in silence for a few minutes, while Buffy was standing off next to Giles, consciously not looking towards him.

“Giles?” Willow asked, “Why don’t you want to be a Watcher? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just… this isn’t quite what we’re used to.” She gestured towards him in his entirety.

Giles crossed his arms defensively, “I wanted to live my own life. Not the one that my father wanted me to live. I wanted to play guitar, to get into trouble. Plus,” He added in a soft voice, “I’m glad I did leave. I don’t regret it for a minute.”

At Willow’s inquisitive look, Giles smiled. Not at Willow, but towards Ethan.

“I met him.”

Ethan didn’t seem to have been paying attention, because he just kept redoing the ritual circle.

Despite how strange it was to Buffy, Giles did seem happier, more relaxed, than she’d ever seen him before.

“You really do love him.” Willow said softly, seeming to have a similar outlook towards this as Buffy—even though it was weird, it was actually kind of cute.

“Yeah,” Giles answered, still looking towards Ethan, the soft expression of a man who was so obviously in love, it needn’t have even been questioned, “I really do.”

Xander looked more uncomfortable with the situation, and he leaned over to Buffy to whisper quietly into her ear, “So you don’t think it’s a little wiggy that Giles used to be in _love_ with the guy that almost got us all killed not two weeks ago?”

“Well _duh_ ,” Buffy hissed back, “But I mean… look at him. He’s _happy._ ”

Xander sighed. “Yeah. I guess he is. Really makes you wonder what changed. He’s so uptight now. Or, y’know, in the future.” He blinked confusedly.

Buffy smiled—and occurred to her that it was the first time she’d done so since she’d seen Giles die, “Time travel is weird.”

Xander got a strange look on his face, and he said, louder now so that everyone could hear him: “So when are we going back to the future?”

Buffy laughed, and it felt so good to be laughing about something stupid with her friends.

Willow had started giggling too, causing Ethan and Giles to stare at the three of them in confusion.

“I’m sorry, that’s funny because…?” Giles asked.

“Back to the Future,” Buffy clarified, “It’s a movie. It’ll come out in ’85.”

“So… It’s a movie about going into the future?” Ethan still looked confused.

“No,” Xander answered, “They go into the past.”

“Then why is it called—”

Xander shrugged, “Just make sure you see it when it comes out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ethan said, somewhat sarcastically, as he went back to whatever it was he was doing to the ritual circle.

Buffy crouched down next to Ethan as he was working, “Ethan?” She asked, quiet enough that Giles—who’d started chatting idly with Willow and Xander about music in the future—wouldn’t hear.

He raised his eyebrows in response, presumably telling her to continue.

“I don’t know exactly what happens in your future, but… if I find out you hurt Giles, just know I know where to find you.”

Ethan scowled at her suspicion, but the expression melded into one of confusion and, perhaps, just hint of fear. He sighed.

“Rupert and I don’t talk in the future, do we? What with him going back to the Watcher Council and all.”

“He never even mentioned you ‘til Halloween.” Buffy said, even if it was a bit harsh.

He flinched slightly.

“Oh.”

He turned away from Buffy to work on a different part of the circle.

“It’s obvious from when I’m from that he went through a lot. And… when I found out that you two knew each other, I just kind of assumed you were part of the bad stuff. But now, I think… I think you were part of good stuff. I don’t think you’d hurt him, at least not on purpose. It’s obvious that you love him a lot.”

“How could I not?” When Ethan spoke, the pain was clear in his voice.

Ethan took pause, stopped what he was doing on the circle, and Buffy wondered what he was thinking, when she heard the faintest sound of sniffling.

“I just don’t want to lose him.” Ethan said, so quietly that Buffy might have missed it.

“So, fight to keep him.”

“You say it as if it’s that easy.” Ethan said bitterly, “The Watchers have never been altogether very understanding, nor accepting. Not towards my chaos magic, nor towards my or Rupert’s sexuality. If Rupert goes back to the Council, I’m not going to be able to stay in contact with him. Not if I want him to have a shot at respect.”

He finished up one last symbol, stood, and walked over to Giles with a crooked and cocky grin, not a sign on him that he had been so upset just moments before, “All done with the circle, love.” He kissed Giles chastely, causing a sweet and content smile to come to Giles’ lips.

“Nicely done, are you lot ready to head back?”

They all nodded, rather enthusiastically.

Ethan motioned for them to stand in the circle, which they did obediently.

As Ethan began to chant once again, he found Buffy’s eyes, and nodded to her, almost respectfully.

Buffy nodded back; a sort of understanding having been formed between them.

The chanting reached the climax, Ethan struck a match, and—ready for it this time, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut before he threw it down, causing the same bright light, and the same strange pulling sensation on her innards.

As the pulling sensation died down, her feet found the ground, she heard Ethan’s voice, speaking quietly but urgently:

“Alright, I’m going to leave you here for a moment, your past selves are still in the main room, don’t make a noise until I get back.”

The light died away, and as the three of them opened their eyes to find themselves in the back room of what used to be ‘Ethan’s’, they saw Ethan himself—older again—swiftly leaving the room, speaking to their past selves as he did, _“Now, I’ll do the ritual to get you to the seventies…”_

They glanced between themselves, and it was obvious on all of their faces that they were thankful to be back in the present, but nervous that their efforts had been in vain.


	3. Chapter 3

They waited patiently, quietly, all too tired to do anything that might get them in trouble.

And finally, they heard the fire light, and the faint pleading voice of Ethan telling them to bring Giles back. A moment more passed before Ethan stepped back into the room with them, “Alright. What happened, did he accept the information, will he be okay?”

“Well we gave it to him,” Buffy answered grimly, “But there’s no way to know if it worked until we find Giles.”

“We should head to his house.” Willow said, and Xander nodded in agreement.

“Yes, go.” Ethan said, “Let me know if… Come back if it didn’t work.”

Willow and Xander started off, Buffy following close behind. She paused as she left to look back at Ethan, who was nervous and wringing his hands. She smiled, trying to look comforting, even as nervous as she felt.

He looked slightly confused by her sudden amiability, but thankful for it nonetheless.

None of them spoke as they made their way to Giles’ house, too afraid that they hadn’t been successful to say anything.

The house was dark as they approached, and Buffy held her breath and—finally, fearfully—rung the doorbell.

A second passed, two, three, Buffy’s heart sinking lower and lower as nothing happened—

The door opened.

A ruffled Giles stood in the doorway, “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning, what on Earth are you all doing here?”

Buffy, in lieu of a response, rushed forward to hug Giles. Giles spent a startled moment frozen, before wrapping his arms around Buffy as well.

Buffy fought valiantly to keep herself from crying, but it was a fight that she was never going to win.

“Come inside, all of you.” Giles’ voice was laced with concern.

Buffy let her arms drop to her side, suddenly embarrassed by her sniffling.

Giles turned on a light in the living room and motioned for them to sit on the couch.

As they complied, Giles asked: “What’s wrong? You, all of you, why…?” He trailed off, clearly remembering something.

“November twelfth. That’s… oh. I didn’t think about the likelihood that you would all still remember… Oh, Buffy.” He sounded heartbroken. “So you’ve just come back, then? From 1975?”

Buffy nodded, “Ethan just sent us out to figure out if you were, y’know, alive.”

Giles’ face darkened at the mention of Ethan, a radical change from the softness on his face in Ethan’s company twenty years prior.

“Yes, that confuses me,” Giles said, “Why on Earth would you go to Ethan? And how did you even find him?”

Suddenly, something fell into place in Buffy’s mind.

“I went to Ethan,” She said, “Because you told me to. When you, I mean, the last thing you said to me, was that you wanted me to tell Ethan that you still loved him.”

Giles’ face fell. He looked ashamed.

“Buffy, I hope, I- I mean, just, please don’t… judge my—”

“I don’t.” Buffy smiled, “He’s worried, you know. When I told him that you’d died, Giles, you should have seen his face. He was…”

“Distraught.” Willow supplied.

Giles made a huffing noise, “You’re acting like this is simple. I don’t know what he said to trick you into thinking he actually cares about _me_ , and not just… chaos, but I’m disappointed that you fell for it.” Giles looked dangerously close to tears.

It was Xander that answered, “I may not be the most observant guy ever, Giles, but you would’ve had to be _blind_ to not see how much that man loved you.”

“Then, perhaps, yes. But you didn’t see him after—that is, when I decided to go back to the Watcher Council, he laughed in my face. Said I would never be happy.” Giles’ voice had tremors in it.

“I don’t _know_ why he would have done that, Giles, but when _I_ talked to him, he said that he wanted you to have a shot at respect among the Watchers. He knew that you wouldn’t be able to be in contact with him once you left, and I think he might have said that stuff to you when you did leave so you wouldn’t feel so guilty leaving him behind.”

“Buffy, it isn’t that _simple_ ,” He echoed Ethan’s words without realizing, “I can’t just upend everything and go back to him. He truly doesn’t care for me at all, and I have a good life now, I’m _happy_.” The tears that were streaking down his face as he said this might have undermined his point slightly, but Buffy didn’t comment on it. Instead, she just shook her head, and stood from the couch.

“If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead. I’m going home, though. We have school tomorrow.” With that, Buffy left, feeling annoyed and somewhat useless.

Rupert didn’t sleep well that night. Once the children had all left, he had tried to go back to sleep, but with little success.

When he _was_ asleep, he had fitful dreams, like one with his and Ethan’s bodies tangling together passionately—a dream from which he woke up feeling hot, sweaty, and more than a little shameful, then following that, a dream of being caught with Ethan by Jenny, who stormed off angry, Ethan following suit after Rupert had tried to follow Jenny to apologize, leaving him lost and alone—he woke from that dream crying and shaking, at five o’clock in the morning, at which point he just decided to head into the library early for fear of being lost in more dreams he didn’t want to have.

He was just walking into the building when he heard footsteps coming from behind him, though he didn’t jump any less when a voice spoke up, loud and clear:

“Hey, Rupert, whatcha doing going in so early?”

Jenny.

She laughed when he startled, “What, so lost in thought that my heels didn’t even alert you to my presence?”

“I- I- Jenny, I- um, I apologize for…” He trailed off as he realized he had little to apologize to her about outside of his dreams, excluding the feelings that he still had for Ethan—the Pandora-esque box that they’d been hidden in having been cracked open on Halloween, before the lid had been thrown off the night before. And like Pandora’s Box, Rupert suspected that those feelings weren’t going back in, at least not anytime soon.

Jenny laughed again, “Apologize? What for?”

Rupert could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and it was obvious that Jenny had seen it when the grin fell from her face.

“Is something wrong, Rupert?”

“No, I- I mean, not really, but… Perhaps we should talk about this in the library.” Rupert’s heart was pounding hard in his chest.

Jenny nodded worriedly, before whispering, “Is this something about, y’know, Spike?”

“Not… really. It’s tangentially related.” He walked into the library just after Jenny, feeling vaguely like he might throw up.

Just as soon as the door closed, Rupert spoke: “I want to get through this without interruption, otherwise I doubt I’ll be able to get through it at all.”

Jenny nodded, more worriedly than she had before.

“And please… if you do, um, hate me afterwards… just leave and don’t speak a word to me after. I don’t know if I could handle something besides that, not again.” Rupert’s hands were shaking badly, so he grabbed a book and busied himself stacking it and other books scattered on the table into a pile.

“I didn’t want to be a Watcher when I was young, so at sixteen I left. I, er, _ran into_ Ethan Rayne—that man that cursed the costumes on Halloween—and we started a band along with a few of his mates. Soon we…” Rupert sat down for fear of his legs shaking so bad that they wouldn’t carry his weight any longer, knowing that there was a possibility that Jenny was less accepting than she appeared and would just walk out at the next sentence. He didn’t meet her eyes as he continued, “We ended up loving each other. Dearly. Not platonically, not like brothers, but… as man and wife would,” Rupert closed his eyes, able to see a young Ethan in his mind’s eye, clear as day, cupping Rupert’s cheek and telling him that he loved him.

“We ended up doing awful things, summoning the demon Eyghon to… to possess us for a high—our version of hard drugs in the seventies. And, when the inevitable happened, and Randall lost control… I killed him to stop the demon inside him from killing the rest of us. I left for the Watcher’s Council the same day, and Ethan… He laughed at me, spat in my face, and told me I would never be happy for the rest of my life. But god forgive me, Jenny, I still love him. I hate him, but I don’t think I’ll ever not love him.” He still couldn’t bring himself to look up at Jenny.

The following moments of silence were deafening.

“Rupert,” Jenny said, softly, “Why the hell would you think I would hate you? Because you fell in love with a man or because you fell in love with a chaos mage? Do you really think I’d be like that?”

“No. But growing up as gay in the sixties and seventies… It makes you cautious.” Rupert’s voice shook as much as his hands still did.

Jenny ran a hand through his hair before reaching down and gently pulling his chin up so he would face her.

Her face was as soft as her sentiments, as kind as it had always been.

“Can I ask you something?” Her voice was still quiet, gentle.

He nodded.

“Is there something that made you rehash this, other than Halloween? Or has this been bothering you this much since we met?”

“Both.” He answered honestly, “I don’t want to go into the incident that brought this all up again right now, but… Buffy and the others, they know. They know about Ethan, not about Eyghon, but… They seem to be convinced that Ethan still… loves me, too.” He sighed heavily, “I know she didn’t mean it as such, but it feels so much like a cruel joke that life’s been playing on me since ’72.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it too much, Rupert. I need you here and sane, okay?” She kissed him on the cheek and brushed a bit of hair that had flopped down onto his forehead back into place, “Nothing you said has changed my mind a bit about you. You’re still an amazing, brave, and kind man.”

“That’s more than I deserve.”

“Humble too.” She joked, obviously trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Thank you.” He did appreciate the gesture, however bad he still felt about everything.

The ringing of the bell to signal the students to start heading to class startled them both, and disappointed them as much as it probably did the students.

“I’ve got to get to my first period.” Jenny told him, “But I’ll come back in for lunch?”

“I’d like that.” The smile that came to his face was genuine.

“Then I’ll see you soon.” She gathered up all of her bags and headed out the library doors with one final glance back towards Rupert.

_More than I deserve_ , Rupert thought bitterly, but brushed it aside in favor of reshelving the stack of books in front of him, a relatively mindless task, one that would make him think just hard enough that he wouldn’t depress himself again.

Come forth period, Rupert had wholeheartedly put the incident behind him, at least for the time being.

He was behind a shelf when he heard the door to the library opening.

“Jenny! I thought you wouldn’t be here until around—” As he stepped out from behind the shelf, the door had been opened again, and a man was retreating quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rupert put down the book he’d been holding and hurried to catch up.

“I didn’t realize—” Rupert broke off as he caught up to the man, finding it to be Ethan Rayne.

“Rupert. I apologize, I hadn’t realized that you were expecting someone.” Ethan’s voice was curt, perhaps a bit jealous. (Although that could easily have been a presumption based solely on hope that Rupert wished he didn’t have).

“I—” Rupert cut himself off and sighed, “Why are you here, Ethan?”

Ethan stared at him as if he were insane, “Why am I—? Rupert, last night Buffy came to me to tell me that you were _dead_ , and that,” He glanced around semi-furtively, “That you were still in _love_ with me, and you expect me to just let that go? To go on uncertain of whether you were even _alive_ anymore?”

Rupert dragged Ethan back into the library by the sleeve so that they could continue their conversation in a more private space.

“That wasn’t me,” Rupert hissed, “ _I_ don’t remember doing that.”

Ethan blinked and took a step back from Rupert as if he’d been literally slapped by him.

“Well.” Ethan’s jaw looked to be clenched tightly, “I apologize again. For my concern, for my foolish hopes and—” He ground his teeth together as if physically stopping himself from speaking any further.

Rupert growled, and then shoved Ethan back stumbling into the side of a bookshelf.

“You don’t get to speak to me about anything, not about my death, _not_ about foolish hopes, and _certainly_ not about some fucking _lie_ that you might still love me.” Rupert’s voice was low and dangerous.

Ethan scowled, “What if it isn’t a lie?”

Rupert laughed mirthlessly, “And you expect me to _believe_ that? After what you said to me, what you _did_ to me? You _broke_ me, Ethan. And even more unforgivably, for the longest time you were _right_. I wasn’t happy.”

“You think I wanted to be right, that I _wanted_ to say any of that? I said it _so_ you’d hate me, so you wouldn’t _regret_ going back to the Council. Besides, it broke me as much as it broke you. _You_ broke me when you left.”

They were both quivering, though whether it was from rage, or fear of what was to come, Rupert wasn’t sure.

“And more than that,” Ethan continued, “I was broken further when Buffy told me that you’d died. And then even further when she told me what you’d _said_. To think I could have had a chance at being happy again, but that you’d _died_ before I could actually go after that chance? I was devastated, absolutely wrecked. So, if you thought that I would stand idly by, twiddling my thumbs instead of going after something that we both want, then you’re not nearly as bright as I know you are.”

Ethan’s eyes looked rather wet, and it was as Rupert noted this fact that he realized how close they’d gotten. Somewhere during their argument, they’d gotten closer and closer, until they were nearly nose to nose. So close that Rupert could feel Ethan’s breath on his lips—something Rupert had missed so much without even realizing it.

Ethan seemed to realize their proximity soon after Rupert. His eyes flicked down to Rupert’s lips and— _fuck—_ Rupert knew he should step away, should distance himself from the situation, should at least be _angry_ about Ethan’s audacity… but he was altogether too intoxicated by the fact that he could feel the heat coming from Ethan’s body to think.

And he _knew_ he needed to think…

But then they were kissing, and Rupert didn’t even know who’d closed the gap, but _fuck_ he didn’t care anymore. He wanted, he _needed_ this like anything, and he didn’t _care_ anymore.

Ethan’s hands were clutching at his shirt, his hair, and Rupert felt truly electric for the first time in twenty years.

Gasping, they fell apart after what might have been an entire eternity, though Rupert’s hands stayed firmly at Ethan’s hips, while Ethan’s remained tangled in Rupert’s hair.

They kissed again, and again, each time sweeter, less needy, than the last, but no less capable in keeping the punch-drunk feeling in Rupert’s stomach.

Once they seemed too breathless to continue, they remained speechless, while Rupert reveled in their heavy breathing, reveled in the buzzing sensation that Ethan’s touch brought him.

A faint clicking of heels on linoleum, a contrast to the silence that had preceded it, announced Jenny’s arrival outside the library.

Rupert stepped back from Ethan, fear clutching his heart.

“Back door?” Ethan asked, smoothly, though a little bitterly.

“Just… go stand in my office for a moment.” Rupert replied somewhat weakly, the enormity of what had just happened beginning to dawn on him.

A strange expression passed over Ethan’s face, somewhere between confusion and hope, but Rupert turned away before he could quite identify it.

“Just sent my class to lunch!” Jenny’s voice rang out from the front of the library as Rupert heard the door opening.

As Rupert rounded the corner of the bookshelf, Jenny startled slightly.

“Were you just napping all this time, or…?” She seemed to be amused at how disheveled he was.

Rupert swore lightly under his breath, reaching up to smooth his hair.

“And there’s your shirt, it’s come untucked.”

“Oh.” Rupert shot a glare towards his office out of the corner of his eye. (He couldn’t get too upset though—he certainly hadn’t been complaining just a few minutes prior).

As Rupert made himself look presentable, he caught sight of a strange expression on Jenny’s face.

“Is… something wrong?”

She gave him a kindly smile, perhaps a little confused, but kind, nonetheless.

“Where is he?” She asked gently.

Fear grabbed his heart again.

“I—”

“I know the look of someone who’s just been making out with someone when I see it.”

“Jenny, I don’t know what came over me, I promise I—”

Jenny, who Rupert was afraid was going to storm off angrily just as she had done in the dream he’d had, just _laughed_.

“Rupert, do you think I’m upset?”

“I, er, did?”

She shook her head, still laughing slightly, “Rupert, I just want you to be happy. And if he’s going to make you happy, then so be it.”

“But… I am happy. _You_ make me happy. Goodness knows I can’t explain why, after thinking myself completely gay for over forty years of my life, but… you’re different.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Where is he? I’d like to talk to him.”

Rupert, still feeling like the other shoe was about to drop, walked over to the door of his office to find it cracked open. He had figured Ethan would eavesdrop but had thought Ethan would have had more tact. He rolled his eyes.

“Ethan? Jenny wants to speak with you.”

When there was no answer, Rupert gently pushed the door open. He found Ethan sitting in his desk chair, fingertips running oh-so-carefully over the designs on a guitar that Rupert knew had been hidden deep in his closet.

“You kept it.” Ethan didn’t look up at Rupert when he’d entered the room.

The anatomically correct heart that had been burned into the guitar was as captivating to Rupert as the day that Ethan had put it there.

“Of course I did. I could hardly just throw it out.” Rupert said, leaning against the doorframe, utterly charmed by the scene in front of him.

“So,” Jenny’s voice startled them both, “You played guitar in this band you told me about, huh?”

Rupert nodded, reaching out to take the guitar from Ethan.

“I did, yes. Not on this guitar, though. I don’t have the one I used for the band in my office.” Rupert fiddled with the guitar for a few moments.

“As much as I would absolutely love getting to hear you play, I’d like to talk to Ethan before lunch is over.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” He stopped plucking at the strings of the guitar.

“I think you might have misunderstood. I want to talk to Ethan privately. If that’s alright.”

The crushing fear was back, but Rupert was so terrified he was going to misstep and do something wrong, that he just stuttered an apology, and fled, guitar still in hand.

He caught Ethan’s eyes as he left, and took some strange pleasure from the fact that he could see some amount of distress in his eyes too.

So for ten minutes, Rupert was sitting at one of the chairs in the main space in the library, tuning the guitar to distract him from the panic in his chest that wouldn’t quite settle down.

With Ethan still on his mind when he’d finished tuning, he began playing a song that he’d covered several times, both in the gay bars they’d play in, and in private just for Ethan’s ears—

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

I don’t have much money, but boy, if I did

I’d by a big house where we both could live.

“If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song, and this one’s for you.”

The door to the library opened quite suddenly, Buffy, Xander, and Willow barreling through, laughing at some joke that Rupert hadn’t heard.

They stopped suddenly when they all caught sight of Rupert with his guitar.

“I like the design!” Willow said, coming closer and peering at the wood burned heart.

“So that band you were in—you played guitar?” Xander asked.

“I, well, yes. Not this one though,” Rupert smiled, adjusting his glasses, “The one I played for the band was this seafoam green Vintera series Stratocaster from the fifties that I found at a pawn shop for fairly cheap. I still have it in a closet at my house. It was… a lot of fun.”

“You, _Giles_ , played an electric guitar?” Xander seemed floored by the information.

“I would have thought you’d have realized that, what with the sort of music we played.”

“But we didn’t hear you play; how would we know?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, you haven’t—well. That’s good. Um…” Rupert was already quickly losing his footing as a simple stuffy librarian, if that reputation hadn’t already been lost for the three children in front of him, and—quite uncharacteristically—Rupert chose to throw all caution to the wind.

“Truth be told, I think Deirdre Saxby ended up putting several of our songs onto the ‘inter-web’ a few years ago.”

“Willow, if you don’t find these songs, I will be forced to take drastic action. _Drastic action,_ Willow.” Xander said, just about as seriously as it was possible for Xander to be.

Willow nodded, looking as faux-serious as Xander was.

“I…” Rupert said, actually serious, “I realize I never thanked you, and I just wanted to tell you that I am… appreciative for what you did.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do all this without you, Giles.” Buffy smiled at him.

Rupert chuckled, “Yes, well… thank you.”

They all turned their heads towards Rupert’s office as the door opened, Jenny stepping out.

“Okay, Rupert, he’s all yours. Hey kids.” She winked at Rupert, kissed him chastely on the cheek and left the library entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> It's going to be less angst, more fluff soon, I promise!


End file.
